


Shattered

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, M/M, Oral, Quadrant Confusion, Torture, davekat - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:18:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You take a look at the lowblood you just bought from this alien who calls herself The Condensce. Alternian's are odd creatures to sell their own species, but who are you to complain?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

     You take a look at the lowblood you just bought from this alien who calls herself The Condensce. Alternian's are odd creatures to sell their own species, but who are you to complain? Humans have had centuries of servants because of it. They were incredibly strong, but they didn't live that long, usually around 35 years, and they lived 50 if you were lucky. Their grey skin was thick, and their teeth and claws were sharp. It was necessary to used brutal methods to get them to behave. They were always behaved when they were around The Condensce. You assumed she was a real bad ass.

     They were bound with rope and lined up in a row. A short burgundy-blooded female with horns like a ram sat with an emotionless look on her face. Another, one with rust-blood and the largest horns you had ever seen was shaking with fear beside her. Then, you saw the one you would buy.

     Your new one had short black hair, candy red eyes, and short nubby horns, smallest you'd ever seen on a troll before, but he was fighting back the most, and you had wanted a challenge. The Striders had a reputation for having the most well trained trolls, so impressing people was clearly what you needed to do. This came as no surprise when your brother informed you that you were to begin training your first today.

     Now, red lines of blood were dried on his chest and he bared his teeth at you, daring you to take another hit at him with your sword. You made sure it was dull. You wanted him to remember this. You decided to take him up on his little dare an lunged forward, slicing him from his upper shoulder, barely missing his jugular (do trolls even have jugulars?), down across his hip bone. It bled a lot and he slammed his eyes shut. You could hear a hiss of pain coming from his chest.

     The rope was beginning to cut off his blood circulation and his hands and feet were becoming discoloured. He writhed in pain on the concrete ground of your basement. Maybe you had gotten the rope too tight.

     "I would love to rip that stupid fucking blonde hair out of your scalp," he would say to you. He only shut up when he was taking another beating or unconscious from one. The bastard even cursed you in his sleep.

     You were beginning to think it was kind of cute. Humans rarely thought their trolls were cute. That was a taboo, like beastiality. That is what they were. Beasts.

     So the next day you decided to get it out of your system. If he ever told anyone you would beat the shit out of him. Literally. He would be like motherfucking Magellan and literally shit himself to death.

     It was only because he was always naked (he had a pussy down there, who would have thought). Well, that and the way he screamed your name, begged you to stop. He wasn't even supposed to say your name, he was supposed to call you his master, but the way it rolled off his dark grey tongue and formed in his black lips was like honey. You should get him some clothes, but you hadn't cared to give him the luxury, and you couldn't with him always misbehaving. Your brother would be disappointed in you if you did.

     You visited him in his cage that morning; it was a small cage, barely big enough to hold him on his hands and knees, and he was curled up inside it, trying to sleep. The cool air probably biting and him through the metal bars. You put on his collar. The sleeping pills you gave him the night before was working like a charm, but he would still be awake soon.

     An hour passed and you watched him sleep. He cried that night, shaking uncontrollably. You swear you heard him say you name, and it didn't sound sweet.  You have never felt more terrible.

     When he woke he instantly looked confused. The door to his cage was wide open, you holding the leash. Ha probably thought it was a trap, from the look in his eyes. He's too bloodied up to do anything , even though it wasn't. He pounces.

     You two wrestle on the floor for a solid 20 minutes and he slams your head against the concrete ground. He thinks you have underestimated him, and now you are face to face with him and he is smirking wider than you even thought anyone could while still deserving the title of a smirk. His teeth were pearly white and looked sharper than a fresh razor. Wow, he is such a beauty.

     You can feel his claws on your neck and you are about to put him back in his place, but he does something you truly didn't expect.

     He kisses you and bites down on your lower lip, drawing a bit of blood but not that much, to your surprise. Troll saliva, you find out, tastes about the same as a star fruit, sweet an extremely exotic. And now his tongue is finding its way into your mouth and you aren't sure how to deal with the situation. Is this the weird hate-love thing you have been hearing rumors about? He definitely has no reason to like you romantically, so it must be true. You kiss him back, but mostly out of reflex. You bite down on his tongue, harder than he bit your lip because you were trying to make him feel the same pain, and his kissing pattern falters while he winces.

     You guess that hurt him a little more than expected. You expected the muscle to have a smaller amount of nerve endings because their teeth are so sharp. Fuck this alien anatomy bullshit. His hands run down your chest, ripping your shirt. Damn, that was your favorite one too. There will always be other shirts and all, but that kind of pissed you off, and talk about not necessary. "I don't get clothes, neither do you," he growled. This young troll (what was his name, Karkat?) was turning you on a little.

     He wasn't turning you on enough to keep you from kicking his ass after that little stunt, however.

     You throw him off of you, watching as he falls on his hands and knees, and you pull your sword out of your strife specibus. The sword in your hand slices a nice long line into his back and he just stays there shaking. You think you finally broke him. Good.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What actually happened to Karkat before he was sold to Dave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashback time.

     You run as fast as your legs will take you, leaving everything you care about behind. Your lusus included. You can't think about what will happen to him when they come to search your house for you. You can only hope they will allow him to leave before they burn your hive to the ground. You even left anything you could possibly use as a weapon behind. This isn't good. This isn't good. This isn't good. There is nothing you could've done, and you know that, but that doesn't stop you from wishing you had done something. Why do you have to be a goddamn useless peice of mutant shit? Now your lusus is in trouble and you are just running away from the other burning houses surrounding your own.

     You dash into the forest. Admittedly that was probably not a good place to go. They expected you lowbloods to run for cover, but there really wasn't anywhere else you could've gone. So you keep running. Even when a feeling of fire fills your lungs you keep running. Eventually you approach a field with rectangular holes all around it (graves?) , and the burning smell of your home is no longer surrounding you. In the middle of all of the holes sits a small house with yellowish brown windows. It is small you it must be a lowbloods. You feel like you should warn them. The lights are still on and they must be oblivious as the what is going on in towns of lowbloods.

     You knock on the door, rocking on your sore feet and looking back the way you came. Still no sign of your attackers, but it surely won't look that way for long. No one else ran with you apparently, so that may have held them back for a little while, but as soon as they saw your house was empty of a troll, the search would catch up to you.

     A girl with long thick hair opens the door. She just stares at you. You explain the situation you are in, that she will soon be in if she doesn't pack up and haul ass, and she just fucking stares at you. You ask her why she is just staring at you and she replies simply, "Where the hell are you actually planning on going? Highbloods are everywhere you know." She holds up a bottle of what looks like alcohol.

     She has a point.

     You are a little over 9 sweeps and she was so right you feel like even more of a piece of shit. She is a lowblood, but you are a mutant. She was bound to be at least a little smarter than you. You take the dumb bottle and try to consume as much of it as you can. Maybe you would get alcohol poisoning, but who cares. The last moments of your freedom fades into a flurry of you and stranger awaiting death and drinking your troubles away.

    You wake up to your hands shackled above your head, which is throbbing by the way. You feel dehydated. Maybe drinking your problems away while awaiting your death was a shit idea. Of course it was a fucking shit idea. The room is cold and you see a lady wearing fushia smile at you from the door. She stares at you like you are her prey, her teeth, gleaming daggers to you. She winks and walks down the hallway, out of your sight.

     A breeze sends chills down your spine, and in that moment you realize you are completely naked. Two violet males walk in. One of them starts a fire while the other runs his fingers along your neck. You growl at him and pull away. He isn't pleased with your defiance. His hands aren't as gental the second time, when he puts some kind of contraption around your neck. You have just enough room to breath, but not comfortably. Whenever you tried to lower your head in the slightest, the spiked collar would press into you skin and make it even more difficult to breath. You focused on your breathing and telling yourself you were going to be okay, lying to yourself.

    The other highblood walks up to you, looking excited. In his gloved hands is a branding iron. You can't tell what the symbol is due to the angle of it. He moves behind you and you close your eyes. A white hot pain sears onto your left butt cheek and it stays there for a few seconds (that feel like hours) before it begins to fade to a burning. He then sits the iron in a tub of water before holding it in front of you, where you can see it. "Had it especially made for you," he sneers with a smug grin. The iron was in the shape of shackles, like the ones restraining you now. You glare at him, though you would much rather punch him in the face.

     The first asshole selects a whip off of the wall in front of you, then goes to work. Blackness fills your mind and you crawl toward it, anything is better than this pain, only to find that it is out of your reach. This goes on for 3 months. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it took me a while to upload Chapter 2, but I have more time and I plan on updating more often! Tell me your thoughts! (Also I am really sorry for any misunderstanding with some people that may have thought I should have tagged Rape. This fic will never have those things in it honestly because Dave is my favorite character in Homestuck and that is like the one thing that I just can not make him do. I do however see where the misunderstanding may have happened and I would just like to say sorry.)

     He looks confused, but stays where you threw him. You are bored with this. He is supposed to fight back. The plan was he fight back, but he isn't. Now what are you supposed to do with him. You try to remember what the slaves in the house where you grew up would do all the time. Should you make him clean or something? Fuck.

     Your head kind of hurts from where he hit it earlier. You sigh and rub at it, probably messing up your hair. Thinking about what you were going to even use him for probably would have been a good idea, but in all honesty it seemed like it would be a while before you would get to do anything with him. He stares up at you with his candy red eyes while you pace.

     You remember Bro used to use a shock collar with his newer slaves, so you guess that would be a good start. Well, you might as well because it isn't like there are any better ideas popping into your brain. Well, nothing new anyway. Continuing to torture him with the methods you had used since you first got him could make him get used to it, and you certainly can not have that. You walk over to the wall and pick up the shock collar and the button laying beside it, wishing you had thought ahead. The only phrase that you thought of was "training him" when you thought about what you were going to do today. And today was the day. Bro left the collar, along with other tools, for you to use.

     You remove the current collar he is wearing (with the leash). He glares at you and tenses up when you put the new one on him. There were little blackish red dots all around his neck, they were there when you bought him, and you wonder what made them. They bent with the movements he made, just like tattoos, but of course they probably weren't as pleasing to have. 

     "Just be good, and I won't press the button," you tell him. "It isn't like I haven't gone through worse," he growls back. He winces when the collar shocks him and drops his head. "I didn't say that you were allowed to speak." You grab his wrist roughly and lead him out of the basement and up the stairs. His brows furrow, gritting his teeth, and you sit on the couch and tell him to sit. He slowly takes a step forward, and starts to sit on the chair across from you. He is still breathing pretty heavily now that you think about it. Oh well. You press the button. "Not on the furniture," you say and point in front of you on the floor. He rubs his neck and you press the button again. "Leave it alone or I will tie your hands up. Then it will be pretty difficult for you to do your job." He glares at you, "What fucking job?" Click. "The one I am about to fucking give you." Groaning, he sits on the floor like you told him to. Click.

     "What was that for?! I did what you said!"

     "You know damn well what it was for." 

     He scowls at the ground with his big eyes. Where yours would be white, his are yellow, and his iris is an even brighter red than your own. You push your shades up more on your nose because _the last thing you need is for him to think you are the same as him._ No, you are the cool-kid, Dave Strider, and his master. He better not fucking forget it. 

     What had even happened to his demeanor anyway? Not long ago he was shaking and now he is all vocal and sass. This is not what you paid for, and you have people waiting to see who the new family servant would be. You have an example to make out of him. It would make it a whole lot fucking easier if he would just give up already, like you thought he already had. Well, you guess he is just a troll after all. They can't be expected to be that intelligent.

      _But they are really cute._ Who thought that? You definitely did not think that, however you are not entirely opposed to the idea. Ew. Gross, Dave. Get it together. He is staring at you with a raised eyebrow and _you need to assert your dominance_ and all of that shit. But you don't really want to. You kind of feel bad for him, and you feel bad about what you did to him, and you feel bad about what the other trolls have had done to them. The trolls with this blood color are rare too. You found this out after you bought him, of course. You are glad you chose him (he is worth a fortune). Striders do have a nose for that kind of thing. The only other cherry-blood you have ever heard of was one of Bro's trolls. Sadly, he got a little carried away with the punishment one time and killed him. Burnt his wrists clean off.

     That was the first dead troll you ever saw, and he showed it to you suspended from the ceiling. He told you that you would get your own one day, but to never get too carried away with the torture or it would end up dead. His teeth sparkled like a vicious dogs would as he told you about his previous slaves. You were seven years old.

     You bend down and look him in his eyes. They were filled with hate and sadness, the hate you put there. _You pulled his little brain apart_ and now you want to tape it back together according to your standards. You lean in and run your fingers through his hair. It is thick and messy, but it feels like silk on your fingertips. His nostrils flare and his mouth falls open. You can feel his breathe on you. So, you breathe it in and move your left hand to his wrist. You feel his muscles tense and you loosen your grip a little.

     He licks his lips, and then you feel them press against your own gently.

     Your other hand moves up to his chin and you are kissing, slow and teasing.

     One of his sharp teeth draw blood from your bottom lip and eventually your hand moves down to rub at the dots on his neck and where you shocked him.

     After a minute he pulls back and looks at you with his brows furrowed. He tries to nonchalantly cover himself more. He does this while blushing.

      _What the fuck are you doing?_  
     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, something is coming so just bare with me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might change the title soon.

     You are scared and confused, but you don't know if you have the energy to be. So you kiss him because it seems like that is what he wants you to do. Every small act of defiance you offer ends up making you feel worse in the end, but accepting your fate seems bad as well. For the past few months all you have dealt with are vulgar pigs who think it is okay to do this to you just because of what you are, but Dave left the button across the room and is massaging your neck in apology and you don't know if he is switching to mental abuse or if he really doesn't like doing those things to you. You are safest just going along with it you think. Again, there is no where to run.

     You feel dirty with his hand in your hair and on your wrist. For a while he seems to be following your lead; you take this opportunity to lean back. Slowly though, if it would get you into any trouble, he would probably pull you back, right? It is suddenly really cold in here and you miss the black turtle neck you used to wear. Dave looks you up and down for a second and you can almost see the shape of his eyes, but the lenses are pitch black. From the way his mouth is turned, you don't think he is very happy with you right now. Oh shit, maybe you should have just let him do what he wanted.

     "If you don't behave, I will send you back," he growls. His muscles flex as he tenses, staring you down. You sure as hell don't want to go back to that Hell hole again. You really wish he would take those dumb shades off so you can see where he is looking. This is kind of embarrassing. "Go back downstairs," he says, nodding to the door. You hesitate for a second and you see his brows raise over his glasses while he wipes blood off of his bottom lip. Oops. He moves toward the button and you hurry for the stairs, only to feel the shock on your neck as you reach the bottom. You sit in your cell and he comes to close the door. You don't look at him, and you hear the click of the lock. Then he leaves again.

     A few days later you hear more than just his foot steps above you. Laughter bellows through the house and into your ears. You guess that there are five people up there, including Dave. Food hasn't been slid in the hole of the cell all day. You usually get at least some uncooked ramen or something by now. Frowning, you look up at the ceiling from where you are laying, sighing and rubbing your tummy. Time passes so slowly when you have nothing to do but sit thee alone. Trying to make out the voices up stairs and what is being said gets easier. Your ears can hear a little better than a humans you think, but you can't be too sure.

     After a while longer you hear something shatter and a frightened voice. "I'm so sorry, master," the footsteps of the voice's owner backing away slowly.

     You hear someone else move toward her and then someone slammed against a wall.

     You don't want to know how it ends, so you close your eyes and put your hands over your ears, curling into a ball.

     Sleep fades into your brain, and you wake up to something other than your usual pack uncooked ramen. What is that? Kibble? Like, woof-beast kibble? Well, fuck. You guess it is a small step up (you guess?), and you are a bit ashamed to think about how quickly it is gone. It was all dry, but on an empty stomach it wasn't all that bad. Maybe you will get some water soon? Hopefully.

     Another few hours pass and you hear footsteps on coming down toward you. Sitting up, you stare at the door and see black platform heels with straps crossing in the front walking down. The woman had skin as grey as your own and as she descended you could see her outfit. She wore fishnets, a tight black mini dress, and a long jade open cardigan. On her neck was a black collar with a silver dog tag on it. She unlocks your door, almost dropping the keys. Her eyes pity you, but she doesn't say anything other than, "If you try to run, I have to hurt you."

     When she walks over to you, she pulls you to your feet. You catch a glimpse of the tag around her neck. Porrim. She doesn't look you in the eye and fixes your hair. "My job is to make all of the trolls presentable for the humans," she says, "And since your master doesn't have any other trolls but you, I recommend you keep yourself looking as presentable as possible. Humans don't like things as much if they aren't aesthetically pleasing." She smells kind of odd. Powdery, but you aren't sure how she smells like a texture.

     She then walks over to the wall and picks up some handcuffs, with a long chain in the middle, and puts them on you. You let her because you don't want to get her in trouble. "When we get back up there, you need to get on both of your knees and bow to your human. Do not speak unless spoken to, and listen to what they want without keeping them waiting. Let's go." She gently pats your shoulder and leads the way up the stairs. You take a shaky breath in.


	5. Chapter 5

     Your brother has just sent his favorite slave downstairs to retrieve Karkat then he goes to raid your kitchen. Great. Karkat was no where near presentable and fuck knows if he is smart enough to act up to Bro's standards. Probably not; your brother has pretty high standards. Shit.

    You hear the click of Porrim's heels coming up the stairs, with Karkat's less sure ones following her. The door opens and she pulls him after her. You always liked Porrim. She always did as she was told and looked after the rest of the trolls when no one else was around. She even helped Bro take care of you when you were little. He gave her special priveleges and beat her the least. He would always do it in a place where it wasn't visible as well, like her arms and her stomach. You remember asking him once, when you were little, why he beat her if she never misbehaved. He responded by telling you that you had to remind your trolls their place, so they would never forget it. You dropped the subject and later Porrim told you that it was okay, before she tucked you into bed. A little voice in your head told you that this is all normal. You were five years old.

     Now it's your turn. Karkat kneels in front of you (still naked), on both knees. You can't see his eyes because of the hair covering them. Behind him Porrim bows down to you. You grab Karkat by the arm and pull him on his feet. He looks started and flinches a little. You feel your heart sink a little, but you aren't sure why. You look at Porrim, who almost broke form. She keeps bowing and stares at the floor. "You do everything he fucking tells you to, you got that? I don't give a shit if he tells you to lick peanut butter from between his toes," you tell him in a hushed tone.

     Just then Bro comes out of the kitchen holding peanut butter and a spoon. Holy shit that is your fucking Jif. He flops down and opens the jar, helping himself to a big spoonful. You reach for the jar to take it away before the son of a bitch double dips his nasty ass spoon in your motherfucking Jif peanut butter, but he just slaps your hand away. Ouch.

     Porrim pulls Karkat down on his knees again, but this time more in front of both of you. You rub your hand, "This is Karkat," you tell him. You want to give Karkat a look, but you don't want to take your shades off. "Karkat, huh?" Bro looks him up and down. "Come here, Karkitty," he said, voice condescending. Porrim is watching him closely you notice. She doesn't usually look interested when your brother messes with the slaves, and you wonder why she looks so interested right now. Karkat stands up and walks closer. He is hunched over and he tried to make as little sound as possible with the cuffs restricting him. "Get on your hands and knees right there," Bro points beside him. Karkat does what he is told and your brother sits the peanut butter on his back. "If it spills, I'll show you what a real beating is like," he murmers to Karkat around the spoon in his mouth. If there wasn't as much venom in his tone you might find it comical.

     You sigh and run your fingers through your hair. "Can you, like, get out?" you say to your brother. He mocks offense at you. "Can't a loving brother stop in to see his younger brother every once in a while. I know it isn't like I raised you or anything--Oh wait! I did." You just shake your head, exasperated, (you roll your eyes too not that it matters), "Seriously dude, John is coming over and I really don't feel like trying to clean up after you when you finally decide to leave."

     "Relax, will you, I came to deliver Porrim, okay?"

     "Uh...Why?"

     "Think of her as a gift! You can only keep her a week though, she's my favourite."

     You stare at him with an eyebrow raised. "Okay, fine," he grunts, "She is to make sure your little troll boy gets trained right and report back to me." That sounds more like him. He takes your peanut butter and your spoon with him, slamming the door on his way out. A few seconds of silence later you hear a big thump on the door. You motion with your head for Porrim to get it. She returns with her suitcase, which he must have thrown at the door. What an asshole.

     You totally lied about John coming, but at least it worked to get him out before he made too much of a mess. Porrim stands up straight and bows only her head to you. You told her it made you uncomfortable for her to bow to you when you were younger, so you made it into a smaller motion whenever you two were alone. You apreciate it. Karkat looks up at you both and you tell him he can get up again, which he does. He quickly averts eye contact though. You send Porrim down stairs to which she nods her head and leaves.

    **There is something wrong here.**

The rest of your day is spent training Karkat. He is getting faster at obeying orders, even though he wobbles weakly when he stands every once in a while. Note to self, begin feeding Karkat better quality food. He hasn't been misbehaving and he can't live off ramen noodles forever. Owning a slave isn't that cheap.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't read Homestuck since the gigapause.....
> 
> I'll get caught up soon I guess. Here is a minichapter.~

You obey what Dave says the best you can. He gets less button happy as you work, but he asks you to do the most idiotic things. He even made you get on your hands and knees in front of him so he could prop his feet up. You stayed like that for a little over an hour while he watched some dumb ass movie. Whenever you moved, even the slightest, he would press the button. It would make your neck go numb and your breath stop in your throat. It was only about 30 minutes in when you stopped moving. It was difficult, and your back and your knees and your arms all hurt, but less than the collar. You really hate this guy.

When Dave gets done with his movie he sends you down stairs to Porrim. She takes your measurements, but you're not sure why. The two of you make small talk and she tells you some stories of her life and Dave's older brother. Apparently the Striders are known for having the best slaves in the world. Their parents used to train slaves then resell them, and that is how they made their fortune. They even had a mothergrub. Porrim was raised from a grub with the older Strider. When their parents died, Dirk inherited all of their slaves and the mothergrub. By that time he had his own, so he sold most of them. The mothergrub, herself, and Kankri were the only ones he kept. She went quiet after.

You tell her what happened when you arrived here, how you kissed Dave. Porrim's eyes go wide and her eyebrows shoot up to her forehead. You guess that was the wrong thing to do.

"You did what?!" she whispers at you.

"I thought he wanted a kismesis, you know from all the anger and the way they acted."

"Why in the hell would you ever think that?"

"Thats what the highbloods said before I came here. They would joke and laugh about it all the time--"

"Don't ever do that again," Porrim can be terrifying, you learn.

The next time you see Dave he sends Porrim upstairs. The blond murmurs in her ear and she goes upstairs. He points at the chair to the side of the room, and you respond by walking over to it. Cold hands push you down and you flinch and the surprising gentleness of it. Well, you are surprised you are on furniture as well. You immediately fear what might happen after this interaction. Is this some kind of trick?

He plops a stack of magazines in your hands and drags another chair over to sit in front of you. What the hell? Then he pulls you up by the hair. "Sit up." His voice is really deep, and you wonder how it would sound speaking Alternian. Probably scarier, so you stop thinking about it. He begins flipping through the pages of the magazines one by one. Every once in a while he stops to hold it up next to you. Sometimes he dog ears a page.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first smut.

     Karkat avoids making eye contact with you, choosing to look down at the floor. You're glad actually because it makes this situation a little less awkward. As you look through the clothes magazines for trolls there are a few things that catch your eye. A few normal collars that look nice. You pick out a cherry red one and bookmark the page. By bookmark, you mean fold down a corner of the page so you can find it easily. The collar originally comes with this degrading lingerie: a bra just as bright as the color and a matching thong. Like you said before, humans do not normally mate with their pets, but some people did breed their trolls and raise grubs, like your parents did. You think the lingerie is just for humiliation though.

      _He is really cute. You always see him covering up with his hands and pretending to scratch his arm in order to cover himself up. He is not like the trolls you had grown up around, the ones who grew up on Earth. If he messed up or you shocked him, he would make frustrated chirping noises._ Porrim told you it was Alternian, that the language wasn't spoken a lot by slaves here. Other humans don't like not knowing what their trolls were saying. _You don't really mind because he is only talking to himself,_ and Porrim is loyal.

     Thankfully, Karkat is training well you think. He is almost ready to be presented to your brother. Then, Bro will decide whether you are ready to take on more slaves and start affecting the family name in a positive way.  _Well, his idea of positive. You wanted to go to fucking college for photography._

Karkat starts biting his bottom lip nervously. It's amazing how he doesn't bite a hole in his lip with those chompers. You're done picking out his clothes, so you call Porrim to take the magazines away. Her heels click down the stairs. With a short nod of her head, she takes them back upstairs.

     You move your hand to caress his cheek. His eyes try to see through your shades, but you doubt they can. Your shades are fucking dark. The troll in front of you stop moving, and he is a little too still. 

     "Breathe," you tell him.

     He doesn't say anything and takes in a shaky inhale. You don't know what you are doing, but you lean in and bite his bottom lip. And he relaxes a bit, sighing into your mouth.  You aren't used to how it makes you feel.

     The kiss is slow. You don't try to put your tongue in his mouth again, and he even gets the courage to drape his arms around your neck. There's that feeling again. You absent mindedly rub the base of his horns when you feel them. Massaging them makes his breathe start to hitch and he starts making this purring sound. He is the one to lick open your lips and pick up the pace. When he crawls on top of you, you grind your hips up against his and he stops, opening his eyes and looking down at you with those stunning red irises.

     The fear and disgust is back in his eyes when they make their way down your body and to your raging hard on. Your pride just flew out the fucking window. Like that joke you read on a laffy taffy wrapper that one time. Why did Karkat throw you confidence clock out the window? He wanted to see time fly. Only time did not fly and your vonerable defenseless cockiness was left shattered on the theoretical cement below. 

     Okay, you've been staring at eachother for a while now. You open your mouth to say something but he beats you to it. 

     "What the fuck is that?"

     Ouch.

     "Little Dave does not like being talked about as if he isn't in the room. You should apologize."

     "Little Dave?"

     "Yes. My schlong. Weiner. Yogurt Flinger. Peen. Bratwurst.--"

     "What?"

     "-- My cock, Karks. My human bulge."

     He just sits there with his mouth open, so you move his hand over it and start to undo your pants.

     "So, do you wanna do this or what?" you ask him.

     His eyebrows go up and he just stares at you for a minute. You disappointingly start to think the answer is no when he nods, sliding down your zipper and pulling down your underwear. He gets down on his knees and starts to lick up and down your length experimentally. You move your hand over his and his over your member, pumping it with his hand. You are not proud of the noises you make because of his mouth.

     You grip his hair and start massaging the base of his horns again, and he swats you away. Okay then. You won't do that again; you wish you could still hear the purring though.

     He covers his teeth with his lips and buries you in his throat. You can still feel his tongue moving around as he sucks and mimicks the motions of his hand with his mouth. You don't know what to do with your hands so you grip the back legs of the wooden chair you are sitting on.

     Then he looks up at you and you feel yourself release into his mouth. His eyes widen and he pulls back, some of your cum dripping out of his mouth and down his chin. The rest ending up on his cheek.

     You let go of the chair your in, when you hear a noise at the top of the stairs. There stands Porrim with wide eyes, she goes back and shuts the door. You fix your pants while you run up after her. 

**Author's Note:**

> 6/17/2015: I'm baaaack.
> 
> 1/9/2015: I'll be taking a long break on this. I may write in some short chapters on request, but there are some other things I would like to do first. Also I am kind of getting out of Homestuck...


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